Cruising
by Lihau
Summary: The original Titans celebrate Wally's birthday.
1. The Idea

**Disclaimer:** Wellllll... no. I don't own the characters or Travel Channel or anything else. sigh

**Cruising**

**One: The Idea**

Dick Grayson walked into the entertainment room of Wayne Manor and suddenly stopped. Wally West was lying flat on his stomach, head propped up on his hands, a few feet away from the TV, staring open-mouthed at the screen. Apparently, the speedster had decided to dash over and pay a quick, unexpected visit to Gotham City.

"What are you doing?" Dick finally asked.

Eyes still glued to the television set, Wally replied, "Drooling."

Sitting down cross-legged next to his red-haired friend, Dick eyed the screen and continued, "What are you watching?"

"Boats."

"Boats?" Dick echoed. "I didn't know you were interested in boating."

"I am since I saw _that_," Wally indicated the screen.

Dick glanced at the program. "Looks like a commercial."

"No, not _that_," Wally said, readjusting himself so that he was now kneeling. "It's this show about super-yachts. One of 'em has a living room that's almost as big as my whole house! And to charter another one for two weeks, it costs more than a million dollars!

"Before that they were showing something about private jets and before _that_ there was a show about mega-expensive hotels. One suite in one hotel—I think it was the Plaza in New York—it had _five_ bedrooms and _two_ living rooms and about, oh, a bazillion chandeliers all over the place and twenty-four-hour butler service!"

Dick looked at the screen and asked, "What is this? 'The Drool Channel'?"

"Travel Channel," Wally corrected. "Geez, if I had one of those hotel rooms, I'd never leave it! Not even in Hawaii!"

Shaking his head and grinning as Wally continued to gape at the television, Dick stood up and said, "You can keep on slobbering. I'll see you later."

Wally, still apparently hypnotized, nodded dazedly.

As Dick left the room, he began thinking of something that could be a wonderful surprise for Wally's upcoming birthday. All he'd have to do was convince Bruce Wayne that it really _was_ a great idea. And so Dick knocked on the door to Bruce's study and, after Bruce granted him entrance, came into the room.

"Say, Bruce, you like Wally, don't you?" Dick asked, hoping to sound casual while he sat down in the chair across from his guardian's desk.

Bruce, head hidden behind a newspaper, snorted, "Are you kidding?"

"Let's put it this way… you like him better than _Roy_, right?"

"That's a pointless question. I like almost _anyone_ better than Roy. Except maybe Ollie."

"Well, you know that Wally's birthday is going to be pretty soon," Dick continued. "He was just salivating over a bunch of fancy jets and yachts on some show he's watching, and I was just thinking—"

"We are _not_ getting him an airplane for his birthday. Get him a pair of socks. He could certainly use them."

"Not actually _buy_ him a plane," Dick explained. "More like… say… flying him down in the jet to Florida and taking him on a little surprise birthday cruise in the yacht?"

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Bruce objected, newspaper still hiding his face. "First, it doesn't exactly take two minutes to fly down to Florida. We'd have to wake up early, and I'm sure Wally would not appreciate being woken up at the crack of dawn for a reason he doesn't know, if that was supposed to be a surprise.

"Second, unless you're planning on an extremely short cruise, we'd get home somewhere around two in the morning. In other words, your plan is 'no go'."

"But Bruce," pleaded Dick, widening his eyes in the saddest manner possible. "Wally _has_ saved my life a couple of times."

"And I should be grateful?"

"Bruce!"

The billionaire peered over the edge of his paper and groaned. Not _the eyes_! He couldn't stand it when the former aerialist stared at him with those big baby-blues and Dick knew it.

Quickly using the newspaper to shield his view again, Bruce said, "No. That plan is crazy. …Mine is much better. We wake up and have a nice breakfast, then head to the jet around ten o'clock, so that you'll arrive in Florida in time to have lunch aboard the yacht.

"After lunch, you can cast off for Wally's 'birthday cruise' and spend the rest of the day and the next morning on board. Once you'd had lunch the next day, you'll head back to the airport and come back home. _That_ is a much better plan than yours."

Dick smiled broadly.

"I, due to several late-night 'meetings', won't be able to join you, but…"

"…But I will, is that correct, sir?" Alfred, who'd suddenly appeared in the doorway, announced.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all, Master Bruce. There is one thing that bothers me about this, however."

"Oh?" Bruce looked over his paper.

"_You_, sir. Who will look after you?"

Bruce glared at Dick, who was snickering softly, and said, "I'm sure that I can take care of myself for two days, Alfred."

"Very well, sir… if you are certain," Alfred conceded reluctantly, clearly not quite believing this. "I shall prepare a few meals for you, so that you need not do any cooking."

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "Last thing we'd want is to come home to a pile of ashes."

Dick laughed louder when Bruce gave him the evil eye.

"That won't be necessary, Alfred," Bruce said while still glowering at Dick. "I can handle it."

"As you wish, sir," Alfred reluctantly replied, apparently skeptical of Bruce's culinary skills.

"Thanks a lot, Bruce," said Dick sincerely, standing up. "See you later."

He began walking around the study, picking up a few books and spinning the globe around twice.

"What are you doing?" Bruce finally asked.

Trying to look sad, Dick explained, "I want to remember this room just the way it is… before it burns down…"

Bruce threw his newspaper at him and Dick ran, laughing, out of the room.


	2. All Aboard

**Disclaimer: No. (sigh) I don't own any of 'em. (sob)**

**Cruising**

**Two: All Aboard**

Later that week, several of Wally's friends (namely Roy Harper, Donna Troy, and Garth) had been told of the planned birthday surprise. Roy had flown over from Star City and, it being nearly midnight, was now sound asleep in the yacht cabin that he was to share with Dick during the cruise, which would begin the next day.

The next to arrive was Donna, who flew there without any help from an airplane. She landed lightly on one of the decks of the boat and, spotting a piece of paper on the outdoor dining table, picked up the note and read it.

_Donna – Ahoy, matey! Check the map on the back of this paper to see your quarters for the weekend. Yours is the one circled in red marker. We set sail as soon as the birthday bore arrives with Dick and Alf. See you tomorrow – Roy_

Grinning, Donna flipped over the paper, followed the map, and soon enough was napping in her cabin.

The last young guest to arrive was Garth, who spent some time debating whether to spend the night in Tampa Bay (literally, of course) or accept Bruce and Dick's offer of turning one of the bathtubs into a bed. In the end, he decided to bed down underneath the dock the yacht was anchored to.

-

"Cool, I actually get to _fly_ in it?" Wally asked, mouth slightly ajar as he stared at the Wayne jet. Dick smiled and nodded. "Where are we going? Not that I actually _care_…"

"It's a surprise," Dick told him.

After boarding the jet and sitting down, Wally grinned, "Thanks, Dick. I think this might be my favorite present this year—maybe even this _life_!"

Alfred, once he'd asked Bruce one last time if he was _sure_ that he could take care of himself, followed the two boys into the passenger area and a few minutes later they were bound for Florida.

-

"Okay, _now_ I'm curious," Wally announced as they rode in the taxi. "Where're we goin'?"

"It's a surprise," Dick insisted.

"Tell-me-tell-me-tell-me!" pleaded Wally excitedly. "Where're-we-goin'-huh-where-where-please-tell-me!"

Dick chuckled and Alfred smiled; even the taxi driver seemed to be hiding a grin.

"Here we are," the driver announced after a couple of minutes.

As soon as the taxi had come to a stop, Wally opened the door, jumped out, and looked around.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "Boats! Are we going on one of 'em, huh? Are-we-are-we-Dick-are-we?"

Dick laughed at Wally's eagerness and nodded, "Bruce's is on dock seventeen."

"Oh-boy-wow-this-is-great-thanks!"

Alfred paid the driver and, after he and the two boys had taken their luggage from the trunk, started off for dock seventeen.

Upon seeing the Wayne yacht, Wally dropped his suitcase and couldn't help shouting, "Jumpin' Jehosaphat! We're going on _that_?!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dick decided.

"Wow, you bet it is!"

They boarded the yacht and Wally almost fell overboard when Roy hollered, "Happy birthday!" at the top of his lungs.

Donna smiled and gave Wally a quick hug, saying, "Happy birthday, Wally!"

"Say, where's Fishboy, anyway?" Roy wondered. "I thought you invited him, too."

Garth, climbing over the deck's railing, looked rather dazed. In explanation for his slightly ragged appearance, he told them, "Someone dropped a strange box on my head." The Atlantean held up the weapon.

Wally grinned sheepishly. That was his suitcase. "Heh-heh… so _that's_ where it went…"

Handing the suitcase to Wally with a slightly chagrined expression on his face, Garth still wished him a happy birthday.

The group met the crew and, shortly afterward, sat down in the dining room for lunch.

Dick, needless to say, wasn't at all surprised by the lavish furnishings. Roy, who'd seen Ollie's yacht, was only very mildly impressed. Wally, who'd spent hours on end drooling at the yachts he'd seen on TV, could hardly believe that he was actually there.

Donna and Garth, however, were silently wondering why someone who already had a beautiful house needed what was essentially a houseboat. After several minutes of eating and friendly conversation, Garth finally voiced this question.

"Why?" was Roy's reply. "Why _not_?"

"Yeah," Wally had to agree.

Dick tried to explain, "It's like a kind of status symbol. Shows wealth, good taste, and power."

"Oh," Garth commented while Donna nodded slowly. "But I thought that was what the Manor was for."

Feeling stuck to answer what was practically a question, Dick said, "Well… yeah, I guess that's true, but… people are just _like_ that, you know?"

"I suppose so."

Believing this to be the end of their curiosity, Dick put another forkful of linguine into his mouth.

"But, to show their wealth, why don't they instead donate money to wildlife conservation and housing the homeless?"

Taken by surprise by Garth's sudden question, Dick choked on his pasta. Wally clapped him on the back a few times, hoping to be of assistance, as Dick coughed.

Alfred, who'd heard the coughing from the next room, came in and asked, "Are you alright, Master Dick?"

Dick pounded himself on the chest with his left fist and managed to nod as Donna reached across the table to nudge his glass of water closer. Feeling responsible for Dick's predicament, Garth apologized.

"Not… your fault," Dick choked out, picking up his water. After coughing a few more times, he took a sip of the drink and, still spluttering a bit, mumbled, "I'm okay. And… and a lot of wealthy people still… still donate a lot of m-money."

"Of course," agreed Garth, still looking as if he felt a bit guilty.

Unable to stand the silence that followed this, Roy said to Wally, "This is a pretty neat party. Bet you never thought _you'd_ get a birthday cruise, eh?"

Wally grinned and shook his head. "Yeah, thanks again, Dick."

Alfred, seeing that all was well, left.

Smiling, Dick demanded, "How many times are you gonna say that, anyway? You must've thanked me at least fifty times already!" To the others he added, "On the flight over here, he probably broke the record of saying the fastest consecutive 'thank-you's!"

-

Meanwhile, Bruce was about to prepare his own lunch. This meal, however, was not destined to be nearly as good as the lunch that his ward's group was enjoying.

Looking into the refrigerator, Bruce noticed with some chagrin that Alfred had prepared a few meals for him in spite of his protests that this was not necessary. That did it. Even if he had to starve himself the entire weekend, he was _not_ going to give in.

Bruce slid the pre-made meals to one side and then pulled out a few ingredients with which he planned to make his lunch.

-

Back on the yacht, it was just about time to cast off for the cruise. Wally was leaning so far over the railing that Donna felt she had to keep an eye on him, just in case he was to fall overboard.

"Wow, it's too bad Uncle Barry couldn't come," Wally said, looking down into the water.

"Well, _someone_ has to stay behind to keep an eye on Central City," Roy pointed out.

"Yeah. I guess—what's that?"

"What's what?" Donna asked.

"That… I mean _those_."

"Where?" Dick said.

"There," Wally pointed.

"Oh. Those are a couple of PWCs."

"A coupla whats?"

"Personal water crafts. You know, jet-skis."

"You have _jet-skis_?!"

"Yup. Two of them."

"Wowie."

Dick grinned, "Tomorrow morning we can take one out if you want."

"YES!"

That whoop of joy came from both Wally _and_ Roy.

Still smiling, Dick added, "But _I'm_ driving."

"Why?" Roy moaned.

"Do you know how to steer a jet-ski?"

"Yeah!"

Dick shrugged, "Okay, then, but you're going out on your own. Wally's going to ride with me." He concluded with a slight smirk, "We don't want to kill him on his own birthday cruise, now do we?"

Roy glared at Wally and commented, "_Sometimes_ maybe I would."

-

Meanwhile…

Bruce surveyed the enormous mess he'd made. Oh, but it wasn't his fault. After all, who woulda thunk that baking soda could be so explosive when mixed with…?

Never mind. Maybe it _was_ his fault.

Well, there was only one thing left to do.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Hello. Golden Dragon," a voice answered. "May I help you?"

"Yes, hello… do you do take-out orders?"


	3. Roy and Revenge

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them!

**Cruising**

**Three: Roy and Revenge**

"How come I gotta share a cabin with _you_?" Roy demanded that evening.

"Look, I don't like it either, okay," Dick replied, "but Garth can't spend the whole night on a dry bed; this whole cruise is for Wally, so he gets his own cabin. And Alfred likes his privacy. _And_ you _definitely are not_ sharing a cabin with Donna!"

"Rats."

"If Donna knew what you're probably thinking right now, she'd slug you," stated Dick.

"Ah, but she _doesn't_ know! And _you're_ totally not gonna tell her, so I'm safe."

"You're just lucky she isn't telepathic."

"At least there are two separate beds in here," Roy grumbled.

"You're tellin' me!" Dick agreed.

Just as Roy sat down on his twin bed, however, he jumped up again.

"Oww!" howled Roy. Rubbing his rear end with one hand, he glared back at the bed. He yelped and picked up a joy-buzzer which had been innocently sitting on the mattress.

"What's the matter?" Dick asked naively, lying down on his own bed.

"You!" Roy yowled. "You put that there!"

"Better you than me," grinned Dick.

"But this was s'posed to happen to _you_! It was on _your_ bed before!"

"Ah, but it isn't there anymore, now is it?"

"I'm gonna get you, Grayson!"

Dick poked out his tongue and then turned over so that his back faced Roy.

Roy, growling a bit, suddenly smiled evilly. He began singing quite loudly, "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg…"

Dick turned around again and sat up.

"…The Batmobile lost a wheel, and Joker got away!"

"_What_ did you say?" Dick snapped.

Roy sang, louder than before, "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg! The Batmobile lost a wheel, and Joker got away!"

A brilliant idea quickly taking shape, Dick glared and challenged, "I dare you to sing it again, Harper."

"Jingle bells," Roy belted out joyously, "Batman smells, Robin laid an egg!"

Dick jumped in with, "Green Arrow stinks, Speedy's a fink, they should be put away!"

The Gotham teen lay back down and turned over, grinning.

"You'd better watch your back, Grayson," Roy cautioned darkly. "Yeah… you'd better watch your back, or else it just might end up with a knife in it!"

-

Late that night, Roy sat up. He smiled and, planning to make a general disaster area of Dick's suitcase to begin revenge, got out of bed. The second he opened the piece of luggage and stuck his hand in, however…

"YOWWWWWWW!!!"

Dick fell out of bed at the sound of Roy's howl.

"What? What?" Dick demanded, sitting up. "What happened?"

Roy, shaking his hand madly, cried, "Ow! Ow-wow-ow-ow-OW!!"

There was a knock at the door and Alfred's voice called through, "Is everything quite alright, young sirs?"

"No!" yowled Roy. "Ow-ow-ow!"

There was a tap at the window (or porthole, whatever you wanna call it) and Dick opened it. Garth was there, standing on a jet of water.

"What is the matter?" the Atlantean asked.

"Are you guys okay?" Donna called, poking her head out of her cabin door.

"What's goin' on?" Wally's voice exclaimed.

"Nothing," Dick replied. "Go back to sleep."

"NOTHIN'?!" Roy roared. "Go back to sleep? What, are you crazyyy—OW!"

Garth poked his head into the cabin and asked Roy, "What is that on your hand?"

Roy, still waving his hand around frantically, shrieked in an unusually high-pitched voice, "A mouse-trap! That stupid geek put a mouse-trap in his suitcase!"

Dick shook his head pityingly, saying, "I knew you were gonna sneak into it sometime or another… I came prepared…"

"Don't just stand there like the idiot you are!" Roy shouted. "Get it off! It's cutting off the circulation in my haa—WOW! Ow-ow-OW!"

Dick walked over to release Roy's right hand from the old-fashioned mouse-trap.

"Stop moving," he ordered. "I can't take it off if you don't stop moving!"

Roy stayed still, biting his lower lip until tears started to form in his eyes.

"Ahhh," sighed Roy in relief as soon as Dick had removed the device. After rubbing his sore hand for a few moments, he glared at Dick and proclaimed, "You're evil."

"It's your own fault. It wouldn't've happened if you'd kept outta my suitcase."

"You're still evil. And I'm gonna getcha."

-

The next morning, Roy woke up to find that Dick was gone. Grayson, as promised, was probably going to tell Wally how a jet-ski worked.

After half-hoping that they'd both fallen overboard, Roy changed his mind; he had something much better in mind for Dick. Grinning diabolically, Roy set up the revengeful prank.

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later and Roy, trying not to laugh, called joyfully, "Come in!"

The door opened and…

_SPLOOSH_

"Good heavens!"

Roy's smile disappeared. That didn't sound like Dick. Those didn't look like Dick's shoes, either, or his pants, or his shirt…. In fact, it looked a lot like—

"Alfred!" Roy exclaimed in shock before he, unable to help himself, suddenly began snickering.

"Would you mind handing me a towel, sir?" Alfred asked, sounding as proper as was humanly possible with a bucketful of slime all over you. "It is rather impossible to see with this ooze in my eyes."

"Sure," Roy laughed helplessly.

After retrieving a towel from the cabin's private bathroom, Roy handed it over to the victim.

As soon as he'd relieved his eyes of the goop, Alfred said, "Might I inquire as to _why_ you would want to do this, Master Roy?"

"Well… it was s'posed to happen to Dick but…"

"…I was in the wrong place at the right time, sir?"

"Yeah… heh-heh… sorry…"

Alfred made a disbelieving little 'hm' noise before saying, "I merely came here to inform you that breakfast will be ready shortly. And I would suggest that you clean up the floor before then. Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I will go change my attire."

"Sure… sorry…"

The British gentleman turned around and, leaving behind a trail of goo, walked dignifiedly away.

Roy looked up at the top of the door frame, where the bucket full of green slime had previously been, and then looked down at the floor, where the empty bucket now lay. A pool of the slime surrounded the bucket.

Where, you ask, did the bucket come from? Roy had found it in the little bathroom closet the previous evening. Where did the goo come from? Having planned to pull a prank or two on the trip, Roy had packed it in a strong plastic bag and hidden it in his suitcase.

He closed the door and retrieved a few extra towels from the bathroom closet before kneeling down and beginning to clean up his mess.

When someone knocked on the door again, Roy said, "Come in—but slowly! And watch your step!"

Dick opened the door warily and, poking his head in, asked, "What happened? …Do I want to know?"

Roy glared up and growled lethally, "Either shut up and help or yak it up and _leave_."


	4. The Jet Skis

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own is the pathetic story line... (sigh)

**Cruising**

**Four: The Jet Skis**

Roy finally sat down to breakfast with his friends only to notice that his was the only place with no food.

Upon being asked about this, Alfred said, "I was keeping it warm for you in the galley, sir."

"Thanks," Roy grinned. Alfred was a great sport.

After receiving his scrambled eggs and sausage, Roy thanked him again, picked up his fork, and dug into the eggs.

Wally was excitedly telling Donna and Garth _everything_ that Dick had told him about the jet-skis when Roy suddenly made an odd choking noise.

"What's wrong?" Donna asked, wondering why Roy's face was so contorted.

Swallowing hard, Roy coughed, "Garlic…!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Alfred apologized. "I know you like garlic and, since I didn't see the chef put any in, I added a bit myself. The chef must have put some in after all… I didn't see that, though, I'm afraid."

Taking away Roy's garlicky plateful of food, Alfred added, "I suppose I was just in the _right_ place at the _wrong_ time."

As soon as Alfred had left, Dick raised an eyebrow at his last comment and asked, "What was that all about? That made no sense."

Roy smirked and replied, "Oh, yeah. He's good."

"Well, yeah," Dick agreed. "He is. But I still don't get what you were talking about."

"Just a little game," Roy said dismissively.

"A game?" Wally asked. "Ooh, I love games! What's this one called?"

Still smirking, Roy folded his arms and rested his elbows on the edge of the table, leaning forward. "Revenge."

-

"Oh-boy-I-can't-wait-to-try-this-can-I-drive-can-I-can-I-please?"

Dick chuckled, "Just put on your life jacket."

Roy looked at Garth and asked, "You swimming or riding?" He indicated the jet-skis.

Garth seemed to mull this over for a moment before saying slowly, "Well… Wally and Donna are riding with Dick, which already fills the first jet-ski… and, ah, I'm not sure if I trust you behind the proverbial wheel of the second jet-ski, so—"

"Chicken."

"Roy," Dick rolled his eyes, "_nobody_ trusts you behind the proverbial wheel of _anything_."

Roy glared but Wally chortled, "Good one!"

The yacht had dropped anchor a few minutes ago in open water and the quintet were now preparing to try out the jet-skis.

After a few crewmembers had lowered the jet-skis down into the water, the youths (Garth excluded) secured their life-vests and climbed down the narrow stairs on the side of the boat.

Dick got onto the first jet-ski, followed by Donna and then Wally. Roy eagerly climbed onto the second jet-ski. Garth dove cleanly into the water and stayed below the surface for a few moments before popping his head back up.

"This is great!" Wally whooped as Dick started out.

Donna winced as Wally shouted this. She said, "Please don't yell in my ear!"

Dick called to Roy, "Not too fast, okay? I don't want you killing Bruce's jet-ski 'cause then Bruce would kill _me_!"

"Yeah, whatever," Roy returned, zipping off.

"Can I drive?" Wally asked a few moments later. "Can-I-can-I-please?"

"Well…" Dick began.

"If you're driving," Donna piped up with a grin, "then I'm going to go swimming with Garth—where it's safer."

"I'll start explaining the controls to you now," Dick told Wally, "and in a few minutes… _maybe_ I'll let you drive."

"Yeah!" Wally exclaimed enthusiastically.

Donna cringed again and glared back at Wally for shouting in her ear.

Roy, meanwhile, was still zooming around on his jet-ski. He was steering pretty well, for the most part, excluding the two times he'd nearly plowed over Garth. The Atlantean yelped and dove underwater as Roy headed straight for him.

"Hey, Gill Head!" Roy laughed, stopping. "Come back up here!"

Garth's head appeared above the water and he asked, "Why? So you can try to run me over again?"

"No… how about a race?"

"A _race_?" Garth echoed warily.

"Yeah. Dick's too chicken to go faster than ten miles per hour on the other jet-ski, so how about you versus me?"

"Wally told me that the jet-ski's top speed is seventy."

"Yep! But don't worry, I won't go that fast. Don't wanna make you look _too_ ridiculous, now do we?" Roy teased.

Garth barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he said, "_My_ top speed is—"

"Don't tell me," interrupted Roy. "Let's just go. We'll get Donna, Dick, and Wally to let us know who wins."

Seeing that he was never going to find a way out of this, Garth sighed quietly and asked, "Where do we race to?"

"I'll send the others over there," Roy pointed a short distance away. "They'll sit to the side to mark the finish line. Think you're up to it, Fish Face?"

"I think so."

"Good," Roy smirked. He rode over to where the other jet-ski was.

"When you drive," Dick was telling Wally, "I don't want you to go faster than—"

"Hey, wanna judge a race?" Roy butted in.

"No. Now, as I was saying—"

"Aw, come on! I won't get off your case until you do, and you know it!"

"Who's the race gonna be between?" Wally wanted to know.

"Me and Gill Head."

"Al_right_! I can't _wait_ to see him kick your butt! C'mon, Dick!"

"Yes, Dick," Donna agreed, smiling. "I'd like to see Garth take Roy down a couple of notches, too."

Roy made a face.

"Might be fun, at that," Dick finally agreed. He grinned. "Where do you want us?"

"Well," Roy joked, "I want you and Wally to jump into the ocean, never to be seen again, and I want Donna—"

"Don't start," Donna glared threateningly.

"Over there," Roy pointed sheepishly.

Dick nodded and steered the jet-ski over to the designated area.

"One moment, please," Garth called to Roy.

The Atlantean quickly swam over to Dick, Donna, and Wally.

Garth quietly said, "I've been considering letting Roy win, so that he won't try to plan a half-dozen rematches if he loses. Do you think I sh—?"

"No way!" Wally blurted out. "You swim as fast as you can go! I wanna see him run into the ground!"

"Do your best," Dick nodded.

"Alright," Garth replied. He joined Roy at the starting point.

"Before we start," shouted Dick, "I just want to remind you both to be _very careful_. I don't—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roy rolled his eyes. "Just shout 'ready-set-go', already!"

Dick glared at him, but Wally eagerly hollered, "Ready! Set! GO!"

Roy leaned down and sped forward. He stopped abruptly when he saw a white current of water zooming past at a speed nearing a hundred miles per hour. As Garth burst his head above the water, it took Roy a moment to register that he'd lost.

"Way to go!" Wally chortled joyfully. "That was great, _Tadpole_!"

Garth's face reddened as the Mid-Westerner called him by one of the nicknames Arthur used.

"Alright! That was _not fair_!" Roy fumed. "Why didn't you _tell_ me you could go that fast?!"

"I tried to…" Garth began.

While Roy continued to rant furiously, Wally asked Dick, "My turn?"

"For what?" Dick returned.

"To drive!"

_SPLASH_

Everyone stared as Roy, who'd begun to approach them fairly rapidly, suddenly fell off his jet-ski.

Dick looked at Wally. "No."


	5. Video Games

**Disclaimer:** I never have and never will own any of them... (--)

**Cruising**

**Five: Video Games**

"Next time you invite me to a surprise party for Wally, do me a favor."

"What?" Dick asked.

"DON'T!"

"Aw, you're just sore 'cause _you_ fell overboard and _I_ didn't," Wally piped up, looking up from the video game he was showing Donna.

"You're right," Roy glowered. "I am."

"Dang it!" Wally suddenly exclaimed while Donna started laughing.

"What happened?" Dick wanted to know, walking over to his two friends.

"She's cruel! She killed me!"

"You look alive to me."

"No, Bird Brain, she killed my _character_ in the _game_!"

"What game _is_ this, anyway?" Dick continued, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. "Wait a second…." He leaned forward and squinted at the screen. "Is that… Batman?"

"Yeah!" Wally moaned. "He was hypnotized by a bad guy and, to snap him outta it, Wonder Woman slugged him!"

Roy burst into laughter.

Garth leaned his arms on the back of the couch and commented, "I think he's alright, Wally. See? He's standing up again."

_Biff!_ the game screamed.

Everyone, Wally excluded, began laughing louder as Donna made Wonder Woman punch Batman in the stomach.

"Now tie him up with the lasso!" Roy hooted.

"Hold it!" Dick said, standing up. "You can't do that to Batman."

The others, even Wally, began protesting.

Dick grinned, "Allow _me_."

He took Donna's controls and quickly made the virtual Amazon princess tie up the virtual Dark Knight. Everybody started to laugh again as Dick made Wonder Woman punch Batman's face.

"What, might I ask, are you young gentlemen and lady doing?" Alfred asked, walking into the room.

"Beating up Batman," Wally chortled, tears of joy beginning to form as he continued to laugh uncontrollably.

"I think you can stop hitting him now," Donna informed Dick. "I think he's out of the spell."

"Aw, just one more?" Dick joked.

"Hey," Roy put in, "are w—the Teen Titans in this game?"

Wally looked at the game's case and answered, "No."

"Rats… I woulda made Speedy whoop Kid Flash!"

"Oh, yeah?" Wally challenged. "Let's play with Flash and Green Arrow. The Fastest Man Alive will beat out GA's brain in two nanoseconds flat!"

"Wanna bet?" Roy sneered.

Dick, Donna, and Garth, meanwhile, were staring at the two red-heads.

The Gothamite said under his breath, "This could get ugly…"

-

And get ugly it did. Two times the trio had to pull Roy and Wally away from each other before things started to get physical.

"You can't do that!" Wally protested.

"Oh, yes, I can!" Roy retorted. "I picked up that flying cape, didn't I?!"

"Green Arrow CANNOT fly!"

"HE CAN NOW!"

"This is ridiculous," Dick muttered.

"Should we stop them?" Garth suggested.

"I think maybe we should," Donna agreed.

"Any volunteers?" Dick asked.

They looked at one another silently.

"Alright, _I'll_ do it," sighed Dick at last.

He stood up and unplugged the television.

"HEY!!!" Wally and Roy yelled.

"This has gone on long enough, you guys," Dick explained.

"Yes," Donna nodded. "Now shake hands—game's over."

"But… but…" Wally tried to say.

"Who won?" Roy demanded.

"It was a tie," Garth decided meekly.

Roy glowered at him.

"_It was a tie_," Dick repeated firmly.

Roy glowered at _him_.

"Fine," Wally muttered through gritted teeth. "_Tie_." He glanced at Donna. "But do we gotta shake hands?"

"I'd recommend it," Donna glared. "It could be good for your health."

Wally quickly extended a hand for Roy to shake, and Roy wasn't far behind in doing the same.

Rule #75: Do not mess with an Amazon.


	6. Little Johnny

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of 'em. I don't own Little Johnny, either, or the bell-ringer joke. The bell-ringer joke really _is_ pretty terrible, by the way. Happy Holidays, anyhow. (-)

**Six: Little Johnny**

As the quintet waited for lunch, Wally piped up, "If anyone has a few coins, I know a good riddle." He smiled, "But if you don't have any coins, a fifty will work. A twenty's okay, but a fifty would be much be much better."

Dick smiled and rolled his eyes. "I'll get some _coins_. What do you need?"

"A penny, a nickel, and a dime."

"Be right back."

Grayson returned a moment later and slid the three coins over to Wally.

"Okay," Wally grinned. "Anyone ever hear about Little Johnny?"

Everyone shook their heads 'no'.

"I need a volunteer from the audience. Anyone?" Wally asked.

Roy raised his hand, explaining with a smirk, "I wanna show you just how fast I can get this thing."

Wally reached across the table with his right hand, coins in his left hand. He began talking.

"Little Johnny's mother has three children."

He put the penny in his right hand.

"Penny…"

He put the nickel in his right hand.

"Nicole…"

He put the dime in his right hand.

"And…?"

Dick, having already figured it out, leaned back in his chair and politely tried not to gloat.

Roy blinked. "Ah… Dmitri?"

"Good guess. No. Little Johnny's mother has three children," Wally said, happily repeating his previous actions. "Penny… Nicole… and…?"

"There's a girl in my history class named 'Diamond'. Is that it?"

"Nice try—but no. Donna, Garth, _you_ try. Little Johnny's mother has three children: Penny, Nicole, and…?"

Donna and Garth both shook their heads while Roy sulked in annoyance.

"Dick?" Wally snickered. "Looks like you already know."

"That figures," Roy muttered.

"Wanna tell 'em?"

Dick half-smiled and announced, "Little Johnny's mother has three children, right? Penny, Nicole, and _Little Johnny_."

"What?!" Roy yelped.

"It's Little Johnny's mother we're talking about, remember?"

"Yeah," Wally put in. "If she's Little Johnny's mother, then that makes Little Johnny her child!"

"Little Johnny?" Roy said.

Donna moaned, "I'm such an idiot! That was so obvious!" She smiled and shook her head at herself.

"Not bad, Wally," Garth had to say.

"_Little Johnny_?" Roy repeated

"I have a new joke, too," Wally beamed.

"What?" Dick wanted to know.

"First I hafta know if you've heard it before. It's about a bell-ringer…"

"Oh, _no_," groaned Dick. "That one's so repulsive it isn't even funny! If you're gonna tell it, I'm leaving!"

"Once there was this church—"

"_Good_-bye," Dick said, standing up to leave.

"Lunch is served," Alfred announced.

Dick let out a sigh of relief. If there was anything that could keep Wally from talking, it was a good meal.

"Ooh, thanks!" Wally exclaimed. "The joke'll hafta wait!"

"_LITTLE JOHNNY_?!"


	7. Fire Power

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, I--oh, forget it. I just flat-out don't own them, okay?

**A/N:** Yes! The seventh chapter is finally finished! Yippee!!

**Cruising**

**Seven: Fire Power**

Wally stared in awe as he watched the captain steer the ship. Captain Winton noticed the stare and smiled at the red-haired boy.

"Care to give her a try?" the captain asked.

"_Steering_?!"

"Certainly! Nobody else is around and…" lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, "…I won't tell if you won't." Speaking normally again, he grinned, "So. You game?"

"Am I ever!" Wally whooped, barely refraining from using his superspeed to dash over.

"Oh, no!" a voice from behind moaned.

Enter Roy Harper.

"You can't let him steer the yacht!" Roy exclaimed. "He'll hit a rock and sink us!"

"There aren't any rocks around here!" Wally protested, glancing around.

"A pebble, then! Either that, or you'll run over a seagull!"

Captain Winton commented solemnly, "And I suppose that you could do better…?"

"As a matter of fact, YES!"

"Then I guess you'll just have to prove it, won't you?"

"That—! I mean, that's the only _sensible_ thing to do that I can think of," Roy said, trying to maintain a serious expression.

"Well, then, once Wally's had a turn, you can give 'er a whirl."

"Al_right_! I mean… sure."

Wally rolled his eyes and grumbled a bit.

"I ain't either a whiny brat!"

-

Soon after that, Wally and Roy were exploring the engine room, arguing. Wally wasn't paying much attention to were he was going, so he tripped over a large gasoline container, spilling the black liquid all over the floor.

"Klutz," Roy muttered.

"Eh, shut up." As Wally sat up on the deck, he commented, "I just remembered! I'm supposed to call Uncle Barry to let him know that I'll be home! Can I borrow your cell phone?"

"No way."

"Please?"

"No!" Roy yelled, putting a protective hand over his cell phone, which was hanging by a small chain from his belt. "Why don't you use some _other_ phone?!

"Just for a minute?"

"No—"

Roy blinked as Wally's hand zipped forward and unclipped the phone. Within a second, the Nebraskan was calling his uncle.

"Hi, Uncle Barry, Aunt Iris," Wally said cheerfully, leaving a message in the answering machine. "It's Wally. I should be home in time for dinner, so—"

A couple of sparks flew out of the phone and Wally, panicking, dropped the device. Standing up and moving next to Roy, he said, "Shorted out?"

"Thanks a lot, you son of a—"

Roy stopped short as a spark from the phone set the spilled gasoline on fire. Wally yelped while Roy squeaked, "Eep!"

-

Dick, about to show Donna and Garth the workings of the yacht, stopped short.

"Eep!" a voice from the engine room exclaimed.

The trio darted in, only to find Wally and Roy standing a few feet away from a portion of the floor which was in flames. Donna flew over the fire and opened a porthole in the wall. Garth quickly used his powers to bring a surge of water into the room, just enough to douse the blaze.

"What the heck were you two doing in here?" Dick demanded of the red-heads. Before they could reply, Dick glanced over the scene and said accusingly, "Roy…"

Roy stared up, clearly still somewhat shocked.

"Isn't that _your_ cell phone?"

Too dumbfounded to speak, the Californian nodded numbly.

Dick observed that Roy was standing closest to the gasoline container, so he said coldly, "Is this your idea of a _joke_?"

Blinking a few times, Roy finally regained his senses and exclaimed, "ME?! You think I—?"

"It's _your_ cell phone," Dick pointed out. "And you should know better than to use it near gasoline. Care to explain?"

"I—but—I—I…"

"Wally? Anything to say in Harper's defense?"

Wally, still petrified, stiffly shook his head "no", and Roy's mouth dropped open.

"Then you're suspended for two days," Dick decided. Roy automatically knew that the Gothamite was talking about Speedy and the Titans.

"What?! That's not fair!" Roy exploded. "It's not my fault!"

"Keep talking, Roy," Dick suggested sarcastically. "Lying will _really_ get you in good."

All Dick, Donna, and Garth could do was stare as Roy suddenly bolted forward, chasing Wally out of the room.

"GET BACK HERE, TRAITOR!" Roy screamed at Wally. Wally, barely refraining from using his superspeed, dashed onto the upper deck. "GET BACK HERE AND LET ME _KILL YOU_!"

The other three quickly followed, wanting to prevent Wally's murder if it was at all possible.

Wally ended up cornered as Roy slowly approached him. Backing away, Wally hit the railing and fell overboard. Roy made a move to follow him, but Dick grabbed his arm, saying, "Let Garth bring him back!"

"Bring him back?" Roy echoed, laughing derisively. Ceasing his laughter, he hollered, "I'M GONNA _DROWN_ HIM!"

Roy broke loose of Dick's grasp and dove into the ocean. Garth ran up and jumped overboard.

Let's just say that havoc ensued.

Or maybe let's not just say that. Let's describe it.

Roy, once in the water, grabbed Wally's hair and shoved the Nebraskan under the waves. Garth, arriving soon afterward, pried Roy's hands open and quickly helped Wally to resurface.

Unfortunately, Roy didn't like this interference, so he pushed Garth from behind, ramming the Atlantean into Wally. Both of the other boys disappeared underwater for a few moments before Garth, pulling Wally along, reappeared. Roy tried to reach around Garth to punch Wally.

He missed and hit the dark-haired water-dweller square in the nose.

Roy used Garth's distraction as an advantage, advancing on the Mid-Westerner. Wally anxiously tried to calm him down, but it obviously didn't work because Roy threw another wild swing at him.

Wally ducked and Roy caught Garth in the jaw.

All this time, Garth had kept on reminding himself that the first attack had been an accident. The second one, too. But when Roy missed yet again, socking him in the eye… enough was enough.

Actually losing his temper, Garth created two thin but powerful water jets, sending the red-heads flying onto the deck of Wayne's boat. The yacht rocked back and forth a few times from the water's force as Wally and Roy landed cleanly on a couple of cushioned deck chairs.

Alfred, who'd been very busy with the dishes (which he'd insisted on cleaning) up until now, hurried up to the deck.

Seeing Garth climbing back onboard, he asked, "Good heavens, what happened?" Upon seeing a bleeding nose and an already-bruising left eye on the Atlantean's face, he added, "Master Garth!"

Dick quickly explained, "We just had a few little accidents, Alfred. Everything's fine now."

"…Very well, sir. But I shall expect a better answer as soon as Master Garth has been taken care of." He said to Garth, "Come along, young sir, and I will try to clean you up."

Dick let his forehead fall into his right hand as Alfred and Garth left the deck.

"Are you alright, Dick?" Donna asked.

"Why?" Dick moaned. "Why does every single little thing I try to do for you guys always turn out to be a disaster?"

"Not everything," Wally piped up dazedly. "Remember when—well, that didn't go so well…. But what about that time—no. …No, I think I broke my leg that time. Hey, but when we… no…. No, that was when Roy climbed up a tree. And fell. Onto you…"

"Wally," Donna interrupted. "You aren't helping."

"Hm? No, I guess not…"

Roy groaned, "Will the world please shut up now?"


	8. Finale, Finally

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own them, you'd better think again.

**Cruising**

**Eight: Finale, Finally**

"Awww, I can't believe it's almost over," sighed Wally miserably.

He sniffled again before sneezing and pulling the comforter around himself more snugly. Let's just say that his sudden dip in the ocean had been a bit of a shock to his nervous system. Right now, though, the five teens were hanging out on the deck, at Wally's insistence to enjoy the yacht a while longer.

"You mean you _still_ thought it was fun?" Dick asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Wally rapidly nodded. "Why wouldn't I think that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Roy began sarcastically. "Maybe 'cause you set the boat on fire, pinned the blame on me, were almost murdered, got blasted out of the water by Gill-Head, and caught a cold which could possibly develop into pneumonia before the end of the day."

Wally grinned, clearly still astonishingly chipper. "Sounds exciting to me! Boy, I'm gonna have a lot to tell the guys at school!"

Roy stared disbelievingly at the Mid-Westerner. "Are you _nuts_?!"

Donna piped up, "What Roy _means_ to say is, we're glad that you had a fun birthday."

"Yes. Painfully glad," Garth put in. "I'm certain that I'll never forget it." _Well_, he thought, _at least not until this black eye is gone_.

"Thank you," beamed Wally obliviously. He sneezed again.

"Bless you," Dick sighed, placing a box of tissues on the side-table next to Wally's deckchair.

"Thanks." Observing Dick's mournful expression, Wally wondered aloud, "What's the matter? Didn't you have fun, too?"

"Hm? Me? Oh, sure. I really enjoy trashing yachts and nearly annihilating one of my best friends in celebration of his birthday."

"You didn't like it," Wally decided sadly. "But why not? I mean, if _I_ had fun, how come you didn't?"

Dick hesitated, thinking. He finally said, "You know, you're right. It _is_ your party, after all, so if you liked it, why shouldn't I? A host is supposed to make his guests happy and if you're happy…. Mission accomplished." The Gothamite smiled.

Roy interrupted the happy moment by saying, "Hey, you said '_guests_'. As in plural. Excuse me, but do I look happy to you?!"

"Roy," Donna commented, "you never look happy."

Everybody else laughed as Roy glowered. Dick said, "I think I saw his eyes light up, though, while he was trying to mow over Garth on that jet-ski." They laughed louder.

"One of these days, Grayson," Roy scowled viciously. "One of these days."

"One of these days, _what_?" demanded Dick.

"One of these days, I'm gonna make you regret ever being born," Roy settled on his threat.

"Oh, Roy, that's old," Donna pointed out. "At least come up with something original."

"His brain's too small," snickered Wally. "We don't wanna give the poor little thing a nervous breakdown, do we?"

"If I didn't have so much respect for the mentally unstable," Roy glared, "you'd be drowning in the ocean by now."

"Hey!"

"Roy," Dick admonished, "we're still celebrating Wally's birthday, here. Try to be a little nicer, huh?"

"In your dreams, Bird Brain."

"Dick," Garth said earnestly, "could I possibly get your permission to dump him overboard?"

"Not only _possibly_," Dick replied with an evil grin. "I'll help you."

"Oh-h, no, you don't!" yelled Roy, leaping up from his cross-legged position on the floor. He hadn't been planning to run off, but changed his mind as soon as Dick and Garth both lunged at him.

Wally and Donna chuckled as the two dark-haired boys gave chase to the fleeing redhead, and the Amazon remarked, "Well, they've certainly managed to get rid of him fast enough," as Wally continued snickering loudly.

"I've got him!" Dick's voice came from the back of the deck area.

"Leggo, ya little parasite!" Roy could be plainly heard. "Yo, Donna! Get the geek and Aquabozo offa me!"

"Me?" called Donna. "I'm sorry, but I'm kind of busy right now."

"BUSY?! Doing WHAT?!"

"Laughing at _you_, of course."

Wally laughed and gave Donna a high five, chortling, "Good one!"

"Hey, this is _not funny_!" Roy shouted. Knowing that Wally was going to contradict this statement, he informed the speedster, "Say it and you die!"

"Oh, yeah," Wally smirked, getting up to see the tight grip that Dick and Garth had on the Californian. "I'm _really_ scared of you when they have you pinned to the floor!" He sniffled gleefully.

"I'm serious, you guys," warned Roy sourly. "Get off me or you'll regret it for the rest of your pathetic and _very short_ lives!"

"Mm?" Dick hummed. "Garth, d'you think we should?"

"Well…" said Garth with a sigh. "Maybe under a few… conditions."

"I don't think I'm liking this," Roy interjected.

"_I_ am," Dick grinned at Garth. "Like what?"

"Like…." Garth trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind. I think that may be illegal. Let's just let him go."

"Alright," Dick agreed with mock reluctance. "You're free, Harper," he announced, releasing his friend's arm as the Atlantean did the same.

"Gooooood," Roy drew out. "'Cause now it's _my_ turn to try to dump _you_ overboard!"

"Go ahead," welcomed Garth, grinning.

"Good luck," Dick snorted.

And thus, Roy began chasing Dick around the yacht. We shall take our leave of them for now, fast forward through time a bit, and join Bruce back at stately Wayne Manor.

Bruce continued surveying the mansion, ensuring that everything was as it had been when Dick and Alfred had left. So far, so good.

Well, okay. There _was_ still a teeny-tiny weensy-teensy bit of a mess in the kitchen from when he'd tried to cook, but that could be cleaned up in no time. It was a good thing, too, because he only had…

Ten minutes?!

That couldn't be right. No way.

Wayne grabbed the antique clock from the mantle of the living room's fireplace and shook the timepiece rapidly.

Oh, that was more like it.

Eleven minutes.

Bruce set the clock back in place and sprinted to the kitchen. Time to get down to business.

-

"Are you sure you don't want to come in and have us call Mr. Allen to pick you up, Wally?" Dick asked.

"I'm sure," Wally grinned. "The run will warm me up!"

"I'm not certain if that would be the brightest of ideas, Master Wally," said Alfred.

They were standing just outside Wayne Manor; Donna had flown back to Paradise Island, Garth had returned to his home, and Roy was on a California-bound plane. Wally was still insisting on running back home, as planned, in spite of his cold.

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "I mean, if you sneezed, you could trip, and if you tripped, you could tear yourself up pretty badly."

"It'll just take a few seconds," Wally persisted, rubbing at his runny nose with a tissue.

"Many things can happen in a few seconds, sir," Alfred reminded him. "You have proved that yourself, many times."

"I guess so," Wally unwillingly had to concur. "But I can just take one of the transporters. You don't hafta call Uncle Barry."

"Okay," Dick nodded. "Come on in."

"Before you go, Master Wally, I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me to give you another dose of that cold medicine," Alfred said, checking his watch.

"Okay," shrugged Wally.

And so they entered the huge dwelling, Dick calling as they entered, "Hi, Bruce! We're back!"

No reply.

"Are you here?"

"…Yes, just a minute."

Alfred took Dick's bag from the boy and then placed his and Dick's luggage at the foot of the staircase leading upstairs. He let Dick lead Wally to wait in the living room, then decided to check on Bruce, whose voice seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

"Think that medicine is helping you any?" Dick asked the redhead.

"Actually—"

"Master Bruce! Good heavens!"

Both boys looked up upon hearing Alfred's astonished exclamation. They jumped up from the couch and jogged to the other room.

Dick yelped, "Holy guacamole—I-I mean, whatever that stuff is…"

Bruce, kneeling on the floor and trying to scrub something off the tiles, looked at the three. For a moment, he looked extremely embarrassed and guilty, but that expression rapidly changed to a neutral one as he got to his feet.

He greeted them, "Welcome back."

"My word, Master Bruce, what happened here?" Alfred asked, still clearly surprised at the kitchen's… ah… _disorderly_ appearance.

"It… looks like something exploded," observed Wally. He snickered and added, "M-maybe it did." Then he burst into laughter. His laughter was brought to an abrupt end when he sneezed loudly.

"I just spilled something," Bruce announced. _While trying to clean _up_ something that exploded…_

"If you'll give me a moment, sir," Alfred said, wearing an understandably long-suffering expression on his face, "I shall instruct you on proper cleaning techniques. Pardon me." He turned and went to get some cold medicine for Wally.

The aforementioned Mid-Westerner began snickering again as he returned to the living room. Dick just stood in the kitchen doorway and shook his head at Bruce.

"What?" demanded the man.

Looking quite sage, Dick responded, "I _knew_ you'd wreck the manor." He chuckled and briefly left Bruce alone with his mess, before returning to grin at his guardian.

"What now?"

"I just thought you'd like to know," Dick smiled innocently.

"Know what?" Bruce all but growled.

"That _Roy's_ birthday is coming up next…."

"We are _not_ sending him on a birthday cruise."

"Why, Bruce, why would I even _suggest_ such a thing?" Dick gasped. "I was just gonna ask if—since you're obviously such an _unbelievable_ cook—if you'd like to help make him a cake or something."

Bruce replied pleasantly, "If you don't get out of here in three seconds, I am going to kill you."

Dick just smirked and trotted off.

"Wiseacre little…"

-

And thus ended the overly-eventful birthday cruise of Wally West. "That's it?" you ask? "But what about Wally's cold? And the mess in the kitchen? And—"

Okay, already!

Wally recovers from his cold and has a most enjoyable time telling all his classmates of his adventures on the Wayne yacht. And how wonderful a chef Bruce Wayne truly is.

Alfred gives Bruce a nice long lecture on cleanliness, cooking, and how to clean up after one has blown up half the kitchen. He then leaves Bruce to tidy up after himself. It takes a while (until just before midnight, actually), and could nigh well be considered the Batman's toughest case—of housemaid's knee, that is.

**The End**


End file.
